Never Ready

Hi,

This is the opening 2,000 words of a story that covers death, dying and grieving. The story follows 16 year-old Freya Mackenzie who's father has died and how it affects her life and how sometimes - it's okay not to be okay.

Thank you in advance if you take the time to read my work.

Many thanks

Erika-Jayne.

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The smell of antiseptic, people and over-cooked food hits me like a brick wall, as I silently make my way through the empty hospital atrium. Each step I take seems so loud on the tiled floor, every inch of my body is screaming at me to turn and run as far away as possible. With a few determined steps I make it to the large silver lift, pushing the call button my stomach rolls and I try to take several calming breaths but they don’t seem to be working. I stare at the day-glow orange numbers counting down, when they hit zero the doors open, I practically jump through them as I am worried if I don’t go now I won’t ever go. Pushing the button marked four a little more forcefully then I indented. The lift starts to rise and my stomach falls further, my hands are sweating, my head is spinning and my heart is racing.

“Doors opening” the female robotic woman states flatly slowly I step through the doors and head towards the ward.

Five years ago, when I was eleven, my Dad was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer, little did I know then that the Cancer had actually spread to his bones. My Dad was then put on an implant that would administer a small dose of chemical therapy daily and I clearly remember mum saying ‘it will work darling your Dad is invincible.’ But as the days changed to months and the months into years Dad didn’t get better. Things became really bad about six months ago – two days after my sixteenth birthday. Dad had been having palliative radiotherapy which is meant to slow down the growth of the cancer and he came home from hospital tired and very pale. He slept most of the day then in the evening I could hear him screaming out in pain and my Mums soothing voice trying to calm him but it didn’t work he just shouted louder. Mum then decided to call and ambulance, I don’t remember the details but they were whisked away in a flurry of flashing lights and mumbled voices. I sat shell-shocked on the sofa and I remember thinking that he couldn’t die there was still too much for him to do. What about when I get married, who’s going to walk me down the aisle, what about my children they aren’t going to have a granddad. What if I get a serious boyfriend who’s going to vet them and tell them to treat his little girl properly? My brother came and sat with me in the living room as we waited for the phone to ring.

At three am, it rang; this is why I am now pacing the hall outside my Dad’s ward. I feel torn, part of me wants him to stop being in pain and to stop fighting the other part wants to keep him with me and the we can do the things that Dad’s should do and I feel angry that God or who ever is trying to take that away from me.

“Freya?” A voice questions from behind me, I turn on my heels and look in to the face of my Dad’s nurse – Sophie.

“Hi.” I smile, I have seen her few time before at my Dad’s radiotherapy appointments but never in a million years thought she would recognise me.

“Are you okay?” her voice soft and her eyes kind. I wanted to shout and scream and say ‘no I’m not okay my Dad is dying, bet your Dad is still around. Leave me alone’ instead I say

“Not sure yet” I shrug as tears are starting to sting my eyes.

“Has your Mum updated you on your Dad’s condition?” I take a deep breath and shake my head. “Do you want to go to the relative’s room?” I nod.

We silently make our way into the ward and turn right into the small room. It’s brightly painted with a small coffee table in the middle and several sofas’. I sit on the edge of the sofa and fold my hands neatly in my lap.

“Freya the results of your Dad’s test’s came back a few hours ago” she pauses and lets me take that information in “From that we were able to see that the Cancer has spread and it has shown up on his lungs, liver, kidneys and his stomach.” I didn’t realise until now that I holding my breath.

“So what does that mean?” my voice is shaking, tears stinging my eyes.

“Because the Cancer is so wide spread we are limited on the treatments we can give him. Also there are some contraindications that mean we have to rule out several treatments already.”

“What are the contraindications?” my throat is dry and my head feels full and the words don’t seem like they are going in.

“Well you know that before you Dad came in he was confused and was in pain. We believe that he had a heart attack earlier today.” I gasp. “And the confusion is due to several large blood clots on his brain which are pressing on different parts of the brain which is making his personality change.”

“So he’s not my Dad any more.” I question tears starting to slow fall.

“In away, but he get confused easily and he can’t seem to remember things and on occasions will put the wrong word in the wrong place or he can’t remember the word at all.”

“Oh okay.” I respond my voice quite. “So why did you call us all in?”

“Well all we can do for your Dad is make sure that he’s comfortable.” Her eyes fell to the floor.

I have seen too much Casualty and Holby City to know that this is near the end; she will be telling me next that he’s been moved in to a side room and then I will know that this is nearly over.

“Also we have moved him to side room A so you can stay with him as long as you want.” she gently patted my hand while I fight the urge to be sick.

“Thank you” I whisper “Can I see him now?” she nods and slowly we both start to stand. My legs are weak and my head light as we walk out of the small room and into the long corridor.

“Freya!” a voice behind me calls; I spin on my heels and look into the face of my brother. “I couldn’t find a working pay station so had to walk around the hospital car park.” Finnegan rolls his eyes.

“It’s okay.” I smile briefly “He’s been moved to a side room”

“Oh” he quietly says as the colour washes from his face “I thought we were going to have more time.” He swallows nervously and my heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I fear it might just break out.

“I will take you to you Dad now” Sophie’s voice is calm and kind, yet still every part of me wants to run far away, become someone else so then I don’t have to deal with this, his, it.

My mouth is dry and I can hear my heart beating in my ears, I find myself wondering what they would do if I just turned on my heels and ran from the hospital. The air around me is feeling thin and each breath is getting harder and harder to take. This corridor has never felt so long or cold before, every sound seemed muted, there were nurses talking at the large desk but I couldn’t make out the words they were saying. Sophie stopped at a large wooden door, my heart sinks and she gently knocks on the door. From deep within I hear my mother’s voice say “Come in” Sophie opens the door and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to remember my Dad when he was young healthy and we had a whole lifetime ahead of us.

“Frey come on” I hear my brothers voice gently say, slowly I open my eyes and step into the room. My mother looks tired, her skin is dull and her hair is swept back un-brushed in a ponytail. I know that she has been wearing the same clothes for many hours.

“Hey mum” my voice is quite and doesn’t sound like mine.

“Hey sweetie.” she smiles and glances at me for a moment. “Hey Robert, Freya and Finn are here” she rubs a pale hand. Slowly my eyes follow that hand to a chest, which is rising and falling slowly then from that chest I look up in to the face of my father. He has a tube going into his nose and his eyes are closed. As I look closely I can and somewhere through the pale, tired skin I can see him, my Dad. I gingerly take a step closer to the right side of his bed. As if sensing my presence his eyes fling and he stares directly at me his blue eyes focusing on me for just a moment before they close again.

“Freya” it comes out just barely above a whisper. “Finnegan”

“Hey Dad.” Finnegan says in his normal chipper way. “We thought we would pop in and just see how things are” Finnegan smiled. Never have I been more grateful for my older brother than now. I feel like I could run away at any moment and he faces up to it and holds himself strong. I only hope that I could ever be that strong.

“Finnegan” Dad’s voice is getting weaker “remember you have to behave and not cause trouble for your mum.”

“I will remember Dad.” Finnegan smiles and takes Dad’s hand in his. “I will be the perfect son” Finnegan pause’s “well I will try to be”

“And I could not have asked for a better son.” Dad smiles “Freya come here darling” Dad takes his hand from Finnegan’s and taps the bed beside him. I smile and perch on the edge of the bed. “Darling things are going to be hard and if I could stay I would but I can’t control this any more and some one or something greater than myself has decided that our paths have to separate now.” A tear falls down my cheek – he is saying his goodbyes and my heart is breaking. “I know that you will do amazing things, your life has just begun and there are so many beautiful things out there in the world just waiting for you to see them and you Finnegan.” Dad pauses for breath; his chest is starting to crackle now. “So don’t let me dying stop you from doing everything you want to.”

“I won’t” I sob mum is now standing between Finnegan and I her hands gently resting on our shoulders. We all know the end is near and there is nothing we can do about it.

“My darling Caitlynne” he smiles “it’s going to be different with out me but think of the future and promise me you will do nice things.”

“I will my darling I promise!” Mum shouts with tears falling down her cheeks.

Two minutes later my Dad was pronounced dead, he took one final deep breath and then never breathed again. As we were taken to the relative’s room I knew my heart had broken and I am sure to whether it will ever be whole again. I knew that my parents were going to die but I didn’t ever think that I would be so young. Sitting in the relative’s room I wanted to shout and scream and tell the world that it wasn’t fair and that there are many more people who are not my Dad and why did it have to be my Dad that was taken. He never did anything wrong and you made him suffer and then stole my future with him – but I didn’t scream or shout and tell the world it wasn’t fair I just let my tears fall and my ‘it’s not fair thoughts’ fade and just said to myself ‘No matter how much or how little time you have to say goodbye you will never be ready.’